


For One To Eight Players

by the_rogue_bitch



Category: Smallville
Genre: Crack, Dubious Consentacles, Other, Tentacle Sex, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-18
Updated: 2007-11-18
Packaged: 2017-12-30 15:25:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rogue_bitch/pseuds/the_rogue_bitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark Kent goes skinny dipping on a hot summer day and finds out what Kryptonite-enhanced lake grass can do to a guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For One To Eight Players

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this story entirely on a former coworker, who said, “Why not Smallville tentacle porn?” and gave it a title.

A late summer heat wave had hit the Kansas prairie like a giant hammer, with temperatures of 80 degrees by 8AM not uncommon. Clark had taken to racing up to the lake after his morning chores to skinny-dip before the heat of the day got too intense. 

It was so quiet and peaceful. Clark felt the waves lap against his ears, hearing only own breathing and the occasional bird. He emptied his mind of everything, content just to drift. 

When he felt cool tendrils slip past his ankles, Clark figured that he must have drifted into the weeds near the shore. Another blade of grass trailed across his lower abdomen, tickling across his cock. Clark jerked in surprise and then smiled to himself. It was nothing to freak out about, just some lake grass.

He drifted further into the weeds, enjoying the impersonal feel of the strands stroking him. They were like cool fingers caressing his skin.

Some of the grass looped around Clark’s ankle. Exhaling in irritation, Clark wiggled his foot, trying to free himself. The loop tightened, enough to hold him firmly but not cut off circulation. Clark tugged, but couldn’t get loose.

He couldn’t get free.

Clark panicked, thrashing in the water. He felt his left wrist being encircled, then his right. His other ankle was similarly bound. 

Clark, pinioned by lake grass, felt a strange lassitude overtake him. He couldn’t escape, that much was clear. Why not wait and see what happened next? Maybe the plants didn’t want to harm him.

Coolness curled around his chest. Clark looked down to see a grass-green tendril squirm across his pectoral. It snaked across his nipple and Clark arched slightly, gasping. The tendril stopped, retreated, and then used an edge to spiral slowly around Clark’s nipple. It contracted and expanded, creating a tight, screaming knot of arousal. Clark’s body shook, fighting the strangeness of the pleasure and yet helpless against it. He grew hard, impulses sparking downward from nipple to cock. 

His other nipple received the same treatment. Clark’s traitorous body reacted, hips thrashing in the water. 

“Please! I’ll – I’ll drown!” he gasped out. Instantly, he was supported. Pliant and smooth, from neck to knee, a mattress of vines held Clark’s body just under the surface of the water. 

The maddening stimulation continued, more tendrils flowing across Clark’s torso, delicately kneading and touching skin that was no longer cool. A questing tip slithered through his navel and Clark quivered, biting back a groan. Clenching his fists, he asked, “What are you? What do you want?” 

In answer, the vines contracted around him, as if to say, “You.” 

“B-but why?” Clark was having a hard time dealing with the fact that he was talking to a collective of vines. Vines that were molesting him. 

Another blade of grass rose up and stroked his face. “Beautiful,” it seemed to say. 

“But what if I don’t want to?” 

The vines all cringed away from him, as if ashamed. Clark felt oddly embarrassed. They weren’t hurting him, not really. 

“You won’t hurt me?” 

Another cool caress from a tendril reassured him. Their touch was so tender, so kind, that Clark couldn’t feel afraid of them. 

“O-okay. Just…be gentle, all right?” 

Clark emptied his mind of any concern at the strangeness of the encounter. After all, who was he to say – maybe this was some sort of lost Kryptonian rite. How else could he explain his lack of judgment about it? 

The vines collected around him again, creating a woven couch that held Clark just below the waterline. Some bold fibrils snaked across his abdomen and through his navel again, others undulated around and around his nipples, as Clark arched and moaned once more. His legs were slowly being pulled open by the vines around his ankles. More wove themselves into his hair, preventing him from going under or looking down, only allowing the sensations to form the impressions.

It now felt like thousands of tiny fingers moved over Clark’s body. They cascaded down and up, coiling and unspiralling until he was completely overwhelmed. 

Then one fibril looped around Clark’s cock and he cried out, shocked at how good it felt. 

The tendril looped and wrapped his cock from base to tip, flexing and squeezing. Clark heard his breath in his ears, a moan on the exhale, coming faster like his heartbeat, creating a recursive loop of arousal. When another questing filament scrolled between his asscheeks, all Clark could do was go limp as the blunt tip corkscrewed around his anus until it irised open and the tendril spun inside.

Clark whined as he felt himself invaded and – in the most alien way – gloriously filled. He was at the center of a mass of writhing vines, water frothing and boiling around them. His own body surrendered to the pleasure so effortlessly taken from his control. 

It was too much, all the strange fingers caressing, squeezing, and stroking him. The filament inside him twisted and bent, the one around his cock flexed and pulled until Clark’s thoughts flew out of his head and a screaming cry tore itself from his throat. His hips bucked skyward repeatedly, cock slicing the water’s surface as it swelled and throbbed, come arcing into the air and pattering into the water in viscous loops. 

Independent tendrils chased after the result of their work, swarming around the sinking droplets. 

Clark slumped into the cradle of vines, panting. The blades of lake grass stroked his back gently, releasing his head, and moving him closer to the shoreline. Finally, they deposited Clark onto the shore, giving him lingering caresses, and then retreating entirely. Clark lay on the sand, recovering his breathing, staring blindly into the sky, coming back to himself.

Finally, he sat up, shaking his head. He should feel…something, shouldn’t he? Like disgusted or something? But he didn’t. He felt wonderfully relaxed. 

Clark stood up and made his way back to the opposite shore, looking for his clothes so he could head back home, to a semblance of normalcy. He hoped the heat wave wouldn’t break too soon. He was definitely coming back tomorrow. Maybe Lex or Lana or Chloe would come swimming with him, too.


End file.
